Like Father, Like Son
by VectorCrocodileFangirl
Summary: /Human Roles AU/ Mistoffelees thinks things are finally going right for him when he meets Munkustrap, even if he happens to be quite a bit older; however, things become much more complicated when Munkustrap insists on a double date with his ex-queenfriend and her new tomfriend, with whom Mistoffelees is all too familiar.
1. Unwanted Reunion

"I'm sorry I'm late," Mistoffelees apologized, standing on the tips of his toes to kiss his tomfriend on the cheek in greeting. Munkustrap helped by leaning down to meet him halfway, putting his hands on Mistoffelees' slight shoulders as they exchanged kisses. "Rehearsal ran a little long."

"It's alright," he replied, giving the smaller tom a little nuzzle before straightening up and offering him his arm. "I warned Demeter that they might keep you tied up for a while. How're you feeling?"

Mistoffelees laughed, looping his arm through Munkustrap's and letting the tabby lead him towards the entrance of the restaurant, past the disgruntled smokers and people waiting for the hotel valet. "Exhausted," he replied honestly. "And starved. We didn't really have time to break for lunch. I hear this place is good, though."

"With how much they charge, they ought to be," Munkustrap mumbled into his ear as they passed through the large double doors. Mistoffelees snorted as they paused at the host's podium. The white and cream patchwork gave them a haughty look, folding his hands over his reservations book. "Hello, we're here to meet up with another couple- reservation for four under the name Demeter?"

"Mr Munkustrap?" the tom asked. The tabby nodded, and he tucked two menus under his arm and held open the second set of double doors for the pair. "Right this way, sirs."

Mistoffelees had been a little unsure when Munkustrap had asked him if he would mind having dinner with his ex-queenfriend and her new tomfriend, but a free meal at a five-star restaurant on a professional stage dancer's salary was a hard offer to pass up, and he was starting to warm up to the idea. He had thought it a bit unorthodox that Munkustrap was still such good friends with his ex, but from what he'd told him about her, Demeter seemed like a nice enough woman- they had coffee together every Thursday before Munkustrap went to work and made an effort to go out to dinner at least once a month. From what he had gathered, this was the first time in a while that both Munkustrap and Demeter had been attached, and both had been eager to meet the other's new tomfriend, hence the dinner plans- and that was what made him most nervous. He'd already met Munkustrap's father and younger brother (the latter of which he could have done without, really) and now it seemed as though Demeter was the next hurdle he had to jump.

"Relax," Munkustrap whispered, as though reading his mind. He gave the small tuxedo's arm a reassuring squeeze. "This is just a friendly dinner, not an interrogation. Demeter's going to love you."

Mistoffelees looked up at the tabby and gave him a gentle smile, resting his head against his arm as they followed the host to their table, but he couldn't help but shake his nervousness. Would sitting across from Munkustrap's ex for an hour be awkward? Everlasting, it sounded like something that _should_ be- but Munkustrap seemed so sure that it wouldn't. Had he done this before with other tom or queenfriends, or was he the first one that Demeter was going to meet? Either option seemed equally terrifying.

Exhaling a nervous breath, he stood straight and squared his shoulders, hovering close to Munkustrap. If he could handle meeting Old Deuteronomy for the first time without hacking up on him out of sheer nervousness, making a good impression in front of Demeter would be child's play. No unexpected surprises here- at least, none that could possibly rival Rum Tum Tugger. The thought was a small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

* * *

Macavity unfolded and refolded the napkin in his lap, in equal parts antsy and anxious. Their dinner reservation had technically been for half an hour ago, but Demeter had warned him that her ex might be a tad late- his tomfriend was a performer of some sort, one who did evening rehearsals.

Demeter folded her hand over his as he started playing with the garnet ring he wore on his ring finger, clasping his fingers between her own. He looked up at her from the loose string on his shirt cuff that he'd been focused on, mirroring the small smile she gave him.

"Nervous?" she asked, her other hand gently rubbing his arm. He let out a low chuckle, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Only a little," he said. He hadn't really thought anything of Demeter being so close to her former tomfriend until she had politely suggested they go out to dinner with him and his new beau, and now he felt- threatened? Jealous? Neither of those, precisely, because he trusted Demeter absolutely, but perhaps a little unprepared. This tom wasn't competition, but he was a standard to live up to. Maybe it was that mentality that had led him to suggest dinner at the most expensive restaurant in the city and to insist on footing the bill; animals in the wilderness showed their dominance through scratching, clawing, and biting, and apparently cats showed it through a lofty display of wealth. Especially when compared to a- what had Demeter said he did for a living? School teacher, he thought. Definitely lofty in comparison, if that was the case.

"Don't be," she said, leaning in for a kiss; Macavity gave her a chaste peck, befitting their surroundings. "Munkustrap is one of the politest toms I've ever met. I'm sure the two of you will get along just fine."

Getting along with Munkustrap was not something he was particularly concerned about- they stayed out of each other's social circles for the most part, after all- but the reassurance was nice either way. He gave her another quick peck and pulled his hand away from hers to consult his watch. Almost forty minutes late now. He briefly debated flagging down a waiter to order wine for the rest of their wait when Demeter perked up beside him, straining her neck slightly to look over the heads of the other restaurant patrons.

"That's them, I think," she said, nodding to the silver tabby being led in their direction by the restaurant host. He looked exactly as Demeter had described, although perhaps she had been a little modest on his behalf- immaculate silver tabby coat, broad chest, gentle face. He gave a sniff and let his eyes wander to Munkustrap's companion, the other tom that would be joining them for dinner, wondering if he was feeling just as uncomfortable.

His stomach sank and his eyes widened when he caught sight of the other tom, and he all but grabbed their waiter as he passed.

"Do you sell full bottles of hard liquor?" he asked quickly, while Demeter was still distracted by watching Munkustrap be led through the restaurant.

"I- suppose we could arrange something, sir," came the reply to a question he had clearly never heard before. "What would you like?"

"A bottle of the strongest thing you're legally allowed to sell me," Macavity said, pressing two fifty-pound notes into his hand. "As soon as possible, please." The waiter glanced down at his payment and pocketed it, dashing off in what he assumed was the direction of the hotel bar. By now Demeter had turned her attention back to him and seemed to have noticed the anxious look on his face.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, tenderly rubbing his arm. He pursed his lips and remained silent, drumming his fingers on the table and hoping that the waiter would be back with something strong and foul-tasting soon.

* * *

Nothing that could possibly rival the Rum Tum Tugger? Mistoffelees had to admit; when he proved himself wrong, he at least did so _dramatically_. He had eyes only for Munkustrap as the host led them to the back of the restaurant, mostly because keeping his eyes on his tomfriend helped to soothe his nerves, but the moment he caught sight of the black and gold queen who fit Demeter's description perfectly and the bright red tabby mix at her side, what little colour there was in his pure white face drained completely. He momentarily froze in his tracks, nearly tripping Munkustrap as they were still joined at the elbow.

"What's wrong? Are you feeling alright?" he asked, noting the distressed expression on Mistoffelees face.

"I- think so. Just feeling a little ill. Would you excuse me?" Before he even caught sight of Munkustrap's little nod in the corner of his eye he unlooped his arm from his and tapped the host on the shoulder. "Excuse me. Bathroom?" he asked. The haughty patchwork pointed out a small hallway to his left and before Munkustrap could question him further, he all but dashed for it.

Mistoffelees didn't even stop to admire what was likely the fanciest bathroom he had ever been in; he simply beelined for the nearest stall and closed it behind him, leaning over the toilet to retch violently. His stomach seemed to be just as dramatic as he was, emptying itself of nothing but bile, since he hadn't eaten since early that morning.

When his stomach had stopped being as acrobatic as the rest of him, he quickly splashed his face with water and readjusted his clothes, doing every possible little thing to delay having to step back out there. He even debated escaping through the window, if necessary.

Nothing worse than Tugger? Oh, he was wrong by a _long_ shot.

* * *

Munkustrap watched with concern as his tomfriend darted off to the bathroom without so much as another word, but followed the host to Demeter's table. His ex-queenfriend stood up as he approached, greeting him with a friendly hug. He returned it with one arm, giving her a firm pat on the shoulder as he nodded to the ginger cat sitting with his hands folded politely on the table. The other tom nodded back, and he couldn't help but notice the way he was taut as a wire.

"Sorry I'm late," he apologized, breaking apart from Demeter and pulling out the seat across from her as she sat down. "Mistoffelees got held up at work." The red tom stood up, extending a hand across the table for him to shake.

"Can't be helped sometimes," he said with a terse smile. "I'm Macavity, pleasure to meet you."

Munkustrap accepted the hand, impressed by the firmness of the other tom's grip. "Munkustrap, and the pleasure's all mine," he replied. "Especially with you taking us out to dinner and all. Thank you for that, by the way."

Macavity gave him a dismissing wave of the hand as the two both sat back down. "Think nothing of it," he said, once again folding his hands in front of him. "I'm something of a regular here."

"Where did your tomfriend go? Wasn't he with you when you came in?" Demeter asked, peering around as she rested one of her hands on top of both of Macavity's.

"I think he was feeling a little under the weather," he replied, looking over his shoulder at the entrance to the bathrooms. "He probably worked himself too hard at rehearsal- maybe I should go check on him-"

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Mistoffelees strode out of the bathroom, back still straight and shoulders still squared but any attempts at a cheery smile completely wiped from his face. He strode over to the table in silence, standing at the corner. Again Demeter stood up, this time extending her hand to Mistoffelees the same way Macavity had to Munkustrap.

"You must be Mistoffelees," she said as he gently shook her hand, giving her a polite smile. "Munkustrap's told me so much about you. Please, sit down." She led by example, and Mistoffelees politely took his seat across from Macavity. The polite smile completely disappeared as soon as he turned to face the ginger tom. "Mistoffelees, this is my tomfriend Macavity."

She gestured for Macavity to extend his hand to Mistoffelees, but both of them kept their hands folded firmly in front of them as Mistoffelees turned and gave her another polite smile. "Oh, that's alright. We already know each other."

Munkustrap turned to his date, ears perked and eyes widened. "You do?" he asked, and he could hear Demeter saying the same as she turned to Macavity across the table.

"Oh yes," Mistoffelees said, turning to look at the oldest tom. Again, the polite smile dropped right from his face, replaced with a frosty look. "Unfortunately."

Munkustrap's eyes widened at the rudeness of his usually terribly polite tomfriend, but across the table from him, Macavity simply grimaced.

"Hello, Mistoffelees," he said through gritted teeth. "It's nice to see you."

"After ten years, it must be a refreshing reunion for you, yes," Mistoffelees returned with a forced smile. Macavity sighed, rubbing his forehead and pinching the ridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger, waving a hand in the youngest tom's general direction.

"Demeter, I'd like you to meet Mistoffelees," he said with a tone of resignation. "The, ah- son I was telling you about."

The tension in the air was almost palpable, with Munkustrap and Demeter staring at each other wide-eyed, then at their respective tomfriends. Mistoffelees had turned his attention to the act of very carefully folding his napkin and placing it in his lap, while Macavity looked like he wanted nothing more than to disappear completely. It wasn't until the waiter reappeared, red-faced and carrying a tray with a crystal decanter of amber liquid and four glasses, that the awkward silence was broken.

"Do you need anything else, sir?" the small grey tom asked, setting the tray on the table between the four of them.

"That will be all, thank you," Macavity said curtly, already reaching for the decanter. He poured himself an overly generous helping into one of the delicate and almost decorative looking glasses before holding it up to the others. "Would anyone else care for some?"

Demeter gave a polite shake of the head and Munkustrap held his hand up with a small 'no thank you', expecting the same from Mistoffelees, who he knew wasn't much of a drinker. He was a bit surprised when the young tuxedo all but snatched up one of the remaining glasses and held it out across the table- not quite a polite request, but Macavity only hesitated for a moment before giving him a slightly less generous helping. He took one sniff of the amber liquid and cringed, but forced his way through the first gulp anyway, taking more of a mouthful than was probably healthy. The taste of it made him shudder, but he managed to swallow it with nothing more than a slight pursing of the lips.

An awkward, blanket silence fell over them and Munkustrap looked across the table at Demeter, the two of them grimacing at each other with their eyes. The only noises that permeated their bubble of silence, aggressive on Mistoffelees' part and awkwardly closed on Macavity's, was the clinking and clatter of cutlery from nearby tables, until Demeter dared to clear her throat loudly and break that bubble.

"I guess I should be doubly glad to meet you, then," she said, trying to keep the desperation and awkwardness out of her voice. "Munkustrap's told me so much about you."

Mistoffelees smiled at her, still polite, but it was very clear that he was tense if not outright uncomfortable. "All good things, I hope?" Munkustrap could remember him practising lines like that out of nerves, but now it seemed as though he was spouting cliches out of politeness more than anything. Demeter either failed to notice or chose to ignore it out of courtesy.

"Of course," she said, folding her own napkin in her lap as Mistoffelees had already done. "He's told me you're a professional dancer- and an excellent one at that."

Mistoffelees seemed to be caught off guard by that, his tense politeness turning into bashfulness as he stared down into what was left in his tumbler. "He's exaggerating," he said humbly. "I'm really not that good. But I'm glad to hear he tries to sell me up to his friends."

Munkustrap chose that moment to step back into the conversation, seizing the first chance he'd seen to help alleviate the tension. "Don't listen to him," he said firmly. "He's terrific." He gave his tomfriend a brilliant smile, and he could see Mistoffelees' irritation about his bragging melt off of his face.

* * *

Macavity tried to make himself as unobtrusive in the conversation as possible, letting out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding in when Demeter took the lead in the conversation and steered it into safe waters. As the subject turned to Mistoffelees' dancing, he stared down into his high-proof whiskey, his ears twitching under his well-groomed but completely uncontrollable headfur.

"Are you still at the Royale?" he asked, taking a sip of his drink and relishing in the way it burned his throat like acid.

Mistoffelees' attention immediately turned to him, looking almost startled, as though he'd forgotten that he was even sitting at the table- which, in all likelihood, was what he'd been trying to do. His bashful smile slipped back to an expression of cool politeness, but at least it was a step up from the absolute disdain he'd been looking at him with earlier.

"For now," he replied succinctly. Then, with a look of curiosity, "How did you know where I worked?"

"Victoria told me," he said with a small, awkward shrug. Funny- he was one of the most intimidating cats most people knew, and yet sitting across from his tiny tuxedo of a son made him want to duck under the table or out the nearest window. Instead he took another drink.

"The two of you talk, then?" Mistoffelees asked. Macavity winced internally as he realized Victoria likely hadn't told him.

"She calls me once a month," he said, running a hand over his mane. "Gives me a rather political run-down of what's been going on in your lives for exactly half an hour, then finds some excuse to hang up on me."

Mistoffelees nodded numbly, and Macavity turned his attention fully to the glass in his hand, only coming back to reality when their waiter approached to take their order. Even then he was not quite all there, forgetting what he and everyone else at the table had ordered only moments after the starchy tom (at least, he thought it was a tom) walked off to deliver their order to the kitchen.

He needed a break, he decided. A break and some fresh air. One hand reached into the pocket of his coat, folded neatly over the back of his chair, while the other came to rest on Demeter's knee. "Can you excuse me? I could use some fresh air before our food arrives."

Demeter squeezed his hand and Munkustrap gave him a nod, saying something he didn't quite catch, but Mistoffelees simply kept an unwavering eye on him as he threw his coat on over his shoulders. As he slid out of his chair, he heard Mistoffelees excuse himself to the washroom and saw him move towards the back of the restaurant, in the opposite direction, out of the corner of his eye.

He didn't bother fastening his coat as he stepped out into the mid-fall chill, but he did pull it tighter around his shoulders as he moved past the valet and around the corner to the side of the hotel that faced the less glamourous side street. He found himself a quiet spot away from the few other people lingering around, lit himself a cigarette, and leaned back against the cold brick.

"I thought you quit smoking."

He shouldn't have been surprised at Mistoffelees' sudden appearance, but he bristled a little in spite of himself when the tiny, proper voice piped up next to him. He exhaled his lungful of smoke in the opposite direction, tapping the ashes from his cigarette onto the sidewalk next to him.

"I did," he answered as the smaller black body leaned against the wall next to him. "It didn't last. Did your mother tell you that?"

Mistoffelees nodded dumbly, picking at the cuff of his sleeve. He maintained a noticeable distance from him; a stout person would have easily been able to fit between them and still have elbow room.

Macavity sighed, taking another long drag on his cigarette. "Besides, can you blame me for needing a smoke, all things considered?" Mistoffelees shrugged, mouth firmly shut as he cupped his face in one hand.

After a few moments of absolute silence that felt like eternities, Macavity exhaled a mesmerizing cloud of smoke into the night air. "You seemed rather inclined to pretend I didn't exist inside. Any reason you've changed your stance on that?"

Mistoffelees squared his shoulders; getting to the point seemed to strengthen the resolve that small talk had made him lose. "I don't like you," he said plainly, arms folded over his chest. "If I could, I would go the rest of my life without ever speaking to you again. But Munkustrap means a lot to me and Demeter means a lot to him, and I don't want to drive a wedge between them because I can barely stand to be in the same room as you." The small black cat was clearly uncomfortable; his fur was bristling, his tail was lashing, and every muscle in his body was tense. Macavity was less than surprised. "I'm willing to call a truce just for tonight- for his sake. But I want to make it very clear that just because I'm willing to be civil, it doesn't mean I feel any differently about you."

Macavity nodded, trying to be impassive as he dropped his cigarette and ground it out with his foot. "Duly noted," he murmured. Mistoffelees looked taken aback by his instant agreement, then simply nodded with wide eyes.

"..alright then," he said meekly, that bravado draining away again. Macavity almost laughed at the idea of him rehearsing all of the nasty things he wanted to say to him, only to be thwarted by his passive indifference.

Macavity didn't bother to wait for the tuxedo as he shoved his hands into his coat pockets and walked back around to the hotel entrance and into the restaurant, giving the host a curt nod as he passed. As he approached their table, Demeter broke off from her conversation with Munkustrap and smiled brightly at him.

"I hope I didn't miss anything," he said softly as he sat down next to her, giving her a chaste peck on the cheek.

"Not a thing," she replied, rubbing his arm as he shrugged his coat back onto his chair. He watched carefully for Mistoffelees to reappear from the front door of the restaurant, but was only somewhat surprised to see him walk back to the table from the men's bathroom and adjusting the hem of his waistcoat. His eyes glossed over Macavity entirely as he sat down, whispering something to Munkustrap that made the silver tabby laugh, and Macavity took the momentary distraction as an opportunity to pour himself another splash of whiskey.

He didn't have time to observe Mistoffelees' not-quite offer of peace in action, because by the time the tuxedo had settled himself, the waiter was bringing them the first course of their meal. He forced himself to eat without really tasting what he was putting in his mouth, and couldn't help but notice the way Mistoffelees constantly had either a bit of food or his fork in his mouth as a way of politely excusing himself from the quiet, comfortable conversation that Munkustrap and Demeter had struck up to fill the silence.

Setting down his own fork and dabbing the corner of his mouth with his napkin, Macavity caught his son's eye across the table and clasped his hands on the smooth wood surface. "So," he said with an attention-capturing clearing of his throat, straightening his cutlery as Mistoffelees' ears perked in his direction. "You have a performance coming up?"

Mistoffelees sat up perfectly straight, hands folded properly in his lap. There was still a measure of anger in his eyes when he regarded the red tabby sitting across from him, but he was admittedly very good at hiding it behind a polite facade.

"Relatively soon, yes," he replied, nervously adjusting the ends of his sleeves. "We've only had a handful of rehearsals so far."

Macavity nodded, his eyes straying away from his son's steadfast gaze and across the quiet restaurant. He became so distracted that his fur bristled slightly in surprise when Demeter rested her hand lightly on his knee.

"What sort of dance do you do, Mistoffelees?" she asked, either having finished her conversation with Munkustrap or choosing to intervene before things became frosty and awkward once more.

"Jazz lyrical, mostly," he replied, pushing the last few bites of his appetizer around on his plate with his fork. "These days, at least. Most of my training is in classical ballet, but you have to follow the performance opportunities, and- that's where they happen to be right now." His eyes momentarily glanced in Macavity's direction, strangely enough seeming to measure his reaction, but he quickly turned his attention back to Demeter. The glance was not lost on the red tabby-mix.

"That's so interesting," she said with a smile, lacing her fingers together under his chin. "Munkustrap was actually telling me that you're one of the lead dancers in the show."

Mistoffelees gave Munkustrap a dry look, prompting the silver tabby to chuckle behind a useless hand. "Of course he did," he said with an exasperated sigh. "He's exaggerating again- there isn't really a _lead_. He just likes to brag about me."

"You know I can't help it," Munkustrap said, completely unapologetic. "There's a lot of reasons for me to brag."

The two of them shared a look so soft and intimate that Macavity felt he was being intrusive just by looking at it, no matter how short-lived it was, and drew him to stare back into his glass of dark amber. That moment was quickly broken by the arrival of the main course of their meal and a curt waiter asking if they'd enjoyed their appetizers. All four of them mumbled their own responses as their old plates were cleared away.

Macavity regarded his salmon steak with the idle realization that he wasn't particularly hungry, but given the price tag attached to the meal, he endeavoured to eat as much of it as possible.

"So, Macavity," Munkustrap said, clearing his throat as he pushed a colourful arrangement of peppers around on his plate. "What is it you do for a living? Demeter tried to explain it to me but it all went a little over my head, I'm afraid."

"Ah, well," the tabby-mix paused, taking a bite of his food to give him a moment to collect his thoughts. "I think the simplest explanation would be to say that most of my money is tied up in investments. I have stakes in a number of companies- civil service and manual labour providers, mostly. It's- primarily a matter of keeping a dozen things organized at once, and working around the stupidity of others."

He could feel Mistoffelees' bright eyes burning into him from across the table, but he elected (perhaps wisely) to keep his attention turned to Munkustrap.

The silver tabby cringed, presumably in sympathy for his last two comments. "Sounds like rough work," he said genuinely. After taking a few bites of a meal that surely cost more than he made in a day, he paused and added, "At least you make good money."

"Yes, that's certainly one of the perks of the job," he said with a small, polite smile. He expected a comment like that to come with some measurement of jealousy, or at least envy, but Munkustrap said it with a plain factualness that could only come from a person who was contented and even happy with his lot in life, something Macavity found himself admiring. It was difficult to remind himself that he was the one who was there to be looked over, not the other way around; having his son on the opposite side of the table, however hostile towards him, was making him more analytical of Munkustrap's behaviour than he might otherwise have been.

It was equally difficult to remind himself that he didn't have any sort of right to make that sort of judgement.

* * *

"So how did the two of you meet? Munkustrap didn't exactly give me all of the details."

Mistoffelees was surprised that the topic hadn't come up in conversation earlier, given that they'd all been trying to either keep their mouths full of food or continue idle conversation at all times. Demeter had been particularly good at that, finding all of the right non-obtrusive questions to ask and steering the conversation in the right direction, particularly when Macavity and Munkustrap got to talking. Mistoffelees had a difficult time remembering that the meeting had been set up just as much for Munkustrap to meet Demeter's new tomfriend just as much as it was for Demeter to meet him- it had just been his misfortune that her tomfriend had been _Macavity_ of all cats. Every time he politely asked Munkustrap some personal question or another, like what school he worked at or what subject he taught or whether he liked what he did, his fur bristled; even worse was sitting there and listening to Macavity lie through his teeth to Munkustrap about what he did for a living. Demeter's intervention was well-timed.

"My sister introduced us, actually," he replied, picking at his food like he was inspecting it for poison. He'd been excited at the idea of a five star meal on someone else's bill when he'd first entered, but a combination of the throwing up and knowing that Macavity was the one paying was making his appetite negligible. "She set us up through Munkustrap's brother."

"Through _Tugger_?" she said. Judging by her reaction, she was all too aware of the connotations that came with that, something- he should have expected, really. The fact that Demeter had also dated Munkustrap, something he'd been all too aware of at the beginning of the night, was becoming increasingly trivial and difficult to remember. She turned to Munkustrap. "That must have been an interesting conversation."

"That's an understatement," the tabby said with a fond sigh of resignation and a shake of the head, which was more or less his usual reaction when the conversation turned to talk of his younger brother. "I wouldn't agree to go until he admitted it wasn't his idea- which took some fighting, mind you. I'm kind of scared to think about what kind of tom _Tugger_ would try to set me up with.."

As their conversation became somewhat self-enclosed again, Mistoffelees dared another look at Macavity, who was equally uninvolved and was keeping his attention mostly on dividing his food into the smallest portions possible. Looking at him was- odd, to say the least. The clearest memories he had of him were from ten-year-old photographs, and it was genuinely disconcerting to see how _little_ he'd changed in that decade. His fur was not quite as lustrous as he remembered, there were a few more wrinkles on his face (no laugh lines, he noticed), but otherwise he looked every bit the same as he had when Mistoffelees was twelve.

When Munkustrap and Demeter reached a comfortable lull in their conversation, or simply dropped off because they realized their significant others were once again sitting in an uncomfortable silence, Mistoffelees quickly jumped in. "What about the two of you? How did you meet?" The question was directed at Demeter, but he couldn't help but watch Macavity's face as he said it.

The red tabby-mix turned to the queen, giving her the platform to speak and simultaneously avoiding Mistoffelees' gaze. Mistoffelees tried to keep his attention on her, but it was difficult not to let his eyes wander to Macavity- at least until he saw the completely fond smile on the tom's face, eyes crinkling genuinely at the corners. Then his attention was all on Demeter.

"Well," she said, with a gentle laugh, pausing to take a small bite of her food. "It's really not that interesting a story."

"Humour us," Munkustrap encouraged, leaning into the conversation. He loved to listen to stories almost as much as he loved to tell them- Mistoffelees could remember their first date being little more than a constant stream of conversation that halted only when they remembered that there was food on their plates.

"Okay, if you insist- you know how I got the management position at that restaurant on Collings a few months ago?" Munkustrap nodded and Mistoffelees followed suit, although in reality it was news to him- he'd never even thought to ask what Demeter did for a living, and was now feeling rather embarrassed by the fact. "Well, part of my job- aside from making sure all of the employees are doing what they're supposed to be doing and helping out where it's needed- is to make sure all of the customers are having a good time. It's the sort of place that gets celebrities and famous food critics in all the time, so sometimes that means a little more than making sure the service is fast and the servers are polite. Macavity was there one night, and when I asked if there was anything I could do to make his evening more enjoyable, he said the only thing I could do to make it any better was to sit and talk with him. So I took my break, and, well.."

'The rest is history' was unspoken, but there all the same. Macavity ducked his head and balled his fist up near his mouth as though he was embarrassed by the story, and Demeter reached over to rub his arm with an amused smile.

"I bet that's a good story to tell at parties," Munkustrap commented.

Mistoffelees kept his eyes down, slowly reducing his food to mush with the prongs of his fork. He wanted to be engaged in the conversation, he really did- he was terribly embarrassed by the fact that Munkustrap and Demeter were forced to guide the conversation while he sat there and pretended to eat, but all his mind could focus on was how much he didn't want to be there. He'd extended a hand in civility to Macavity in an effort to minimize the awkwardness for Munkustrap and Demeter, but sitting across from him still felt _wrong_. A few times he caught Macavity looking up at him from his food or drink and he could only barely contain his desire to tell him to just take a picture already.

Their waiter stopped by their table when either plates had been cleaned or food had been more or less abandoned, with a promptness Mistoffelees was rather impressed by. "Is there anything more I can get you, sirs and madame?"

Macavity looked about the table as if waiting for someone else to step in, then turned back to the questioning waiter. "I think that'll be all, thank you," he said, folding his hands together on the table. "We'll have the bill now."

Mistoffelees breathed an internal sigh of relief as their decorative plates were loaded onto the waiter's tray and carried off, glad that he wouldn't have to sit through another course of the meal. He had at least managed to force his way through more than half of his food, although it sat heavy and uncomfortable in his stomach.

"Are you sure about paying for all of us?" Munkustrap asked, already reaching for his wallet. Macavity held his hand up to stop him just as the little black booklet was placed in the centre of the table, pulling his own leather fold from his back pocket. He took the booklet and looked over the bill briefly before casually pulling out two hundred pound notes and sliding them into the plastic as though it were the easiest thing in the world; more than enough for all of the food for both of them for a week, almost as much as their groceries for an entire _month_, and he parted with it as casually and with as much disinterest as pocket change. An idle anger burned in Mistoffelees at that thought, but he pushed it aside. Freedom was close at hand, and surely after how uncomfortable this night had been, Munkustrap and Demeter would think twice about setting up another get-together for the four of them.

Their coats had been quickly donned as soon as Macavity had sorted himself out, and as the foursome stepped out into the autumnal night, the two couples stood and faced each other in a formal sort of way. Demeter reached out to firmly grasp one of his delicate hands between both of hers, something between a handshake and a caress.

"It was so nice to finally meet you, Mistoffelees," she said with a genuine smile and a good nature that made him feel even more guilty about his lack of involvement throughout the night.

He gave her an equally bright smile, returning the little shake. "Likewise," he said. "I'm sorry this night didn't exactly turn out like you two planned."

Demeter removed one of her hands from his and waved dismissively. "It's alright," she said. "These things happen."

_Do they?_ Mistoffelees wondered. This seemed like the sort of situation that was rather unique, but he just smiled as she released his hand. At his side he could see Munkustrap and Macavity at the end of their own firm handshake, exchanging the same 'it was nice to meet you' pleasantries.

"Have a safe trip home," Munkustrap said in parting, as the valet pulled up with Macavity's car.

When the red tom and golden queen disappeared into the Rolls-Royce, Mistoffelees let out a breath he hadn't been aware he was holding in.

* * *

Munkustrap slid into the driver's seat, sliding the key into the ignition and making sure the engine actually turned over before putting on his seat belt and settling in. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mistoffelees slumped in the passenger seat, looking utterly exasperated.

"Tired?" he asked as he pulled out of the parking space he'd found at the back of the hotel's lot- he had no desire to pay the exorbitant prices for the sake of convenience.

"_Exhausted_," Mistoffelees breathed, only barely remembering to put on his seat belt. "Between rehearsal and _that_, I just want to go home, take a hot shower, and _sleep_."

"I'm sorry about all of that," the silver tabby said with a grimace, glancing at his young tomfriend out of the corner of his eye. "If I'd known-"

"It's alright," Mistoffelees said, rubbing the back of his hand. "You couldn't have known. Demeter couldn't have, either. Anyway, it's behind us now."

Mistoffelees' hand dropped from Munkustrap's, his eyes sliding shut, but the tabby was curious enough that he couldn't simply let things rest.

"You never mentioned having- _problems_ with your father," he said offhandedly, watching the street signs carefully for the turn he needed to take. From the passenger seat, Mistoffelees grumbled, but it was more from tiredness than from annoyance.

"Until tonight, I hadn't seen him in ten years," he said plainly. "I'd moved past the 'problems' stage and into the 'forgetting about his existence' stage."

_Hard to do when you're sitting across from him at the most expensive restaurant in the city_, Munkustrap thought, accompanied by another wave of internalized guilt at having subjected Mistoffelees to the double date in the first place.

"Is it alright for me to ask, or..?" In spite of the fact that they'd been dating for a good few months now, the more delicate areas of the topic of family were rarely breached. Munkustrap was well acquainted with Mistoffelees' sister, with whom he shared a flat, knew that Mistoffelees' mother had died a few years prior, and that his parents had been separated for quite a few years before that; similarly, Mistoffelees had met both his father and his brother, and knew that his mother had taken off when he was still a kitten. Beyond that, they'd only discussed family in idle conversation, such as this relative or that relative getting married, or having kittens, or going through a messy divorce; nothing so close to home as an absent father, although Munkustrap felt he could distinctly relate.

Mistoffelees sighed, ears twitching as he stared out the window. "Well, he and my mother split up when I was twelve, but you knew that already," he said, watching the lights sailing by. "I guess it wasn't like a lot of divorces- there wasn't any yelling or arguing or.. _anything_, really. He and mum didn't talk to each other much back then because he was always busy with work, but that wasn't anything new to us. Then one day he was just.. gone."

As Munkustrap turned onto the street that would take him to Mistoffelees' flat, he spared a glance over at the small tux. "Just.. out of the blue?" he asked.

Mistoffelees nodded. "Not an ounce of warning, just left for work one day and never came home," he replied. "My mother must have known it was going to happen, because she took me and Victoria aside to talk about it, but we didn't have even the slightest indication. The best part, though, was the fact that not once did he try to contact either of us. For all I knew he could have been dead."

"That's.. terrible," he said, not sure what else he _could_ say to the young tom. "Not even once?"

"Not even a birthday card," Mistoffelees said with a shrug. "I guess at some point he and Victoria must have gotten in contact, probably after mum died.. but that was the first time I've so much as heard a word out of his mouth since I was twelve." There was a pause as he rested his forehead against the cool glass of the window, then, "I never even knew why he left. Mum didn't talk about it at all. I spent _years_ thinking it was my fault that he left.. stupid to think about it that way now, but I was just a kit then."

Munkustrap gave him a sympathetic look, as best he could while still keeping his eyes on the road. "It's not stupid," he said softly, just as they pulled to a stop at a red light. "You deserved better."

He could see the first hints of a smile on Mistoffelees' face as the light changed and they continued on their way, but he couldn't help asking just one more question. "So him and Demeter- do you think..?" The actual question went unspoken, but Munkustrap could tell Mistoffelees had picked up on it. His response was, at first, nothing more than a shrug.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. "Like I said, I haven't talked to him in ten years. And I'm- more than a little biased. But I can tell you one thing: not once can I _ever_ remember him looking at my mum the way he looks at her."

Munkustrap pulled the car up to the curb outside of the block of flats where Mistoffelees lived, and the tuxedo reluctantly unfolded himself from the rather uncomfortable-looking position he'd assumed during the drive. Unbuckling his seat belt, he leaned over and kissed Munkustrap over the car's stick shift.

The silver tabby gently stroked the headfur between his ears, which invoked a little involuntary purr. "I'm sorry about tonight," he repeated, pressing another quick kiss to Mistoffelees' lips. The younger tom ran a thumb over his jaw, giving him a halfhearted smile.

"At least you were there. That made it easier," he said honestly. "I just.. need some time to recuperate. I'll see you for lunch on Wednesday?"

"Of course," Munkustrap said as the tiny dancer climbed out of his old clunker of a car, blowing him another kiss as he dashed to the front door of the complex and fumbled for the buzzer. Once his sister had buzzed him in and he was out of sight, Munkustrap let out a sigh, threw the car into gear, and drove off in pursuit of the same thing as Mistoffelees- a hot shower and his own bed.

* * *

The car ride home from the restaurant had been one spent mostly in silence, with Macavity being caught in a sort of rapt contemplation that Demeter was reluctant to interrupt, but once they were in the elevator headed for the top floor she felt as though she couldn't remain quiet any longer.

"Well, that evening was all sorts of awkward," she said, leaning her head against his shoulder. She caught the edge of a toothy grimace out of the corner of her eye.

"I apologize for that," he said in turn, adjusting his shoulder so she could rest her head on it more comfortably. "My children don't hold me in the highest regard. I left when they were quite young, and I don't think they've ever forgiven me for it- Mistoffelees especially. Which is all well and good, because I've never forgiven myself for it, either."

She thought the soft look of remorse on his sharp features clashed, but in a pleasant way she didn't get to see very often. "Why did you leave?" she asked, unable to quell her rampant curiosity.

Macavity gave a one-sided shrug. "Their mother and I simply didn't feel that strongly about each other anymore," he replied. "And I was just so absorbed in my work that we mutually thought it best that they stay with her. I regret not talking to them more over the years, but- what's done is done. No changing the past."

The elevator slowed to a stop with a pleasant _ding_ and the doors opened on Macavity's front hall, where the pair deposited their coats. As they stepped into the foyer, Demeter stopped and took Macavity's face in her hands, running her thumbs along the ridges of his cheekbones.

"I'm sorry I dragged you out there tonight," she said. "I didn't mean to stir up something like this. Munkustrap didn't, either."

Macavity took one of her hands in both of his own, kissing her knuckles. "I know," he said softly. "It's alright. I think it was more difficult for Mistoffelees than it was for me, anyway. He's gone to great lengths to avoid me over the years."

Demeter raised an eyebrow as they stepped into their bedroom, Macavity undoing his tie as she lifted each foot to pull off her high heels. "What kind of lengths?" she asked.

"He left his mother's viewing early because his sister told him I was on my way," he replied simply, as though he were discussing the weather. Demeter cringed at the thought, sure that there was some element to the story that Macavity was leaving out to draw a reaction like that from his son, but not wanting to pry- not yet, at least. It was hard to tell because of his striking natural markings, but she could see the dark rings around his eyes.

"What's your day like tomorrow?" she asked as she moved over to the vanity and returned her necklace and the diamond studs in her ears to the proper place in her jewellery box.

"Hectic," he replied with a half-concealed yawn, as his suit jacket and dress shirt were deposited neatly on the end of the bed. "In the morning, at least. I have early meetings- my schedule should clear up in the afternoon, though. And you?"

"I work the dinner shift," she replied, stepping out of her dress and hanging it up on the hangar she'd left on the closet door. Laundry would be dealt with tomorrow, when they weren't both so tired.

"I'll drive you," he said, stepping up behind her so he could wrap his arms around her collarbone and press a kiss between her ears. She leaned back against him momentarily before shooing him off so she could peel away her pantyhose.

"You don't have to," she insisted, but it was a dialogue they went through regularly. They both had busy schedules, so even moments like being driven to work were more than welcome. She whirled on him, pressing one hand flat into the fur on his chest. "What you _do_ need to do is get to bed. I don't want you falling asleep in your meetings tomorrow."

With a laugh, he leaned in for a kiss. "Yes ma'am."


	2. Unwanted Gifts

Victoria dashed to the front door when she heard the buzzer, fumbling with the golden stud that was half-hanging out of her ear. "I'm coming, I'm coming..!" she said urgently to no one. Pressing the intercom button with her shoulder, she leaned in to the microphone and gave a little, "Hello?"

"Hi," the voice of her older brother and flatmate greeted her. "I left my key at home."

She gave a little shake of the head and a roll of the eyes that was wasted on her lack of an audience, buzzing Mistoffelees through the front door. She turned to the mirror hanging by the front door, right above the key rack where she noticed her brother's front door key hanging for the first time since she got home, and went back to trying to slip the earrings into the soft base of her ears.

She had only managed to get one of the two into the rarely-used holes that she had feared were closed when her brother stepped in, slumping back against the door and letting out a deep sigh as soon as it had closed behind him. Her ears perked and twitched involuntarily at the melancholy noise and the way he started to rub his forehead like he was suffering from a headache, which only made trying to get in the second stud harder.

"Bad night?" she asked, giving a little grin of triumph when she finally managed to secure the stud. She started preening at her perfectly white coiffure as Mistoffelees sauntered over to the armchair and dropped himself into it.

"_Bad_ night," he repeated. Victoria winced.

"Did something go wrong on your double date?" she asked. When she'd heard that Munkustrap had proposed that Mistoffelees meet his ex-queenfriend, she'd been concerned on his behalf- it sounded like something that would be terribly awkward, especially for a tom like Mistoffelees who she knew wasn't nearly as confident as he sometimes let on.

"You don't even know the half of it," he groaned, covering his face with his hands. Mumbling through his fingers, he continued with, "You'll never guess who Demeter's tomfriend is."

"Who?" she asked. She wasn't nearly as inclined towards the sort of personal curiosity as her friends were, but Mistoffelees was intriguing her.

"_Macavity_."

Victoria froze and gaped, turning to her brother with a positively scandalized expression. "_No_. And you stayed for the whole thing?"

"I didn't have a choice!" Mistoffelees replied, draping himself over one of the chair arms. "I didn't want to make Munkustrap any more uncomfortable than he already was. It could have been worse- Macavity mostly kept quiet through the whole night. It was just.. _awkward_. And weird to see him after so long."

Victoria nodded slowly as she sat on the couch opposite the chair Mistoffelees had claimed. She had seen Macavity a few times since he had left- most memorably at their mother's viewing- but the instances hadn't been any more pleasurable for her than Mistoffelees' had been.

"Hey- do you talk to him on the phone?"

The question was so unexpected that she nearly did an almost comical double-take, and she stared at him with wide brown eyes.

"I- yes. Once a month," she replied, her tail bristling slightly. "I would have told you, but I know you don't really want to have anything to do with him."

"Victoria, it's alright," he said with a comforting smile. The white queen couldn't tell if it was genuine or not- Mistoffelees had always been good at masking himself in that regard, but she appreciated the effort at the very least. "I'm not mad because you _talk_ to him. It just came up in conversation- he knew what dance troupe I was with."

Victoria blushed, but his reassuring smile alleviated her embarrassment a little. That smile slowly slipped from his face into a more distant, distracted expression, caught in thoughts that made him furrow his brow, and to keep himself grounded he turned back to her and looked her up and down.

"What are you all dressed up for?" he asked with genuine curiosity. She idly smoothed a stray fold in her dress, rising from the couch and returning to the mirror by the door.

"Oh, just going out with a few friends," she said, and she could tell as soon as the words left her mouth that the casualness that she'd intended came across as completely forced. From the corner of her eye she could see Mistoffelees grinning slightly, a grin that was quickly hidden behind a conspicuous hand when he noticed she could see him.

"Just the usual friends?" he questioned with an air of amusement. She blushed again, something very obvious against the pure white colour of her face.

"And some friends of friends," she replied delicately. As she turned on her heel to move back to the bathroom and finish touching up her makeup, she saw the crinkle at the corner of his eyes that indicated a smile hidden behind that carefully placed hand. She stopped at the ceramic counter with her various cosmetic products spread across it momentarily before stepping back out and looking to her brother, slowly sinking into his chair as though he were going to melt into it. "Would you like to come with us? I'm sure Electra and Jemima wouldn't mind your company." She left Etcetera out of that listing quite purposely, knowing that she wouldn't precisely be a selling point for Mistoffelees, but secretly she hoped he would refuse her offer.

"No, no," the tuxedo said with a dismissive wave of the hand and a well-timed yawn, looking back at her with sunken, sleepy eyes. "I'm just going to take a shower and go to bed. Rehearsal followed by that dinner has me _completely_ exhausted."

"If you're sure," she said, but a secret smile appeared on her lips as she reached for the specially-chosen lip gloss.

* * *

Mistoffelees allowed himself to doze while Victoria took up the bathroom with her cosmetic primping and preening. The radio by the window quietly played samey billboard music, white noise to his exhaustion-muddled brain. As soon as his sister had stepped out of the bathroom, wearing a pair of nice golden stud earrings he knew had been collecting dust in her jewellery box, rarely-used peachy-pink lip gloss, and a pale purple dress he had never seen before, he pulled himself out of his chair and headed straight for the shower.

"Have a nice time," he called, just moments before the buzzer announcing the arrival of her friends at the front of the flat complex went off. As Victoria greeted the other queens with a fervour that made it sound as though they'd been apart for years rather than days, he shut the bathroom door behind him and relished in the silence. He removed each layer of his clothing with deliberate care- jacket, waist coat, dress shirt- and folded them with ease of practice, setting them aside where they would be safe from the heat and moisture of the shower even in the small room.

He turned on the faucet and let the water run until the last of the cold had run out of it, leaving a steaming stream that immediately fogged up the mirror. With the room's limited ventilation, the steam soon made it hard for him to breathe, but he was used to it after living in the same flat for so long. He switched the water over from the faucet to the shower head and peeled off the last remnants of his clothes, stepping into the tub.

A shocked shudder ran down his spine as soon as the scalding water hit him, so hot it felt cold. It would only last a few minutes- then the hot water would start tapering off until it was barely lukewarm by the time he was done with his shower- but he was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

The mental idleness of a routine repeated on a daily basis left him with more time to think than he would have liked as he washed away the remnants of a difficult day. His mind started to wander, first to the dinner that he'd only barely managed to avoid walking out on, then more specifically to Macavity.

The last time he'd seen Macavity had been when he was twelve, and his father was leaving on his way to work. It had seemed like a painfully ordinary departure- his father running a hand over his headfur and wishing him a good day at school before he left- but he didn't return in time for the dinner his mother had brought home from the diner as he usually did. It hadn't been until later that evening, when his mother had sat him and Victoria down, that he learned he wasn't going to be coming home again. At first he'd been distraught- blaming himself for his father's departure, as if he'd done something to drive him away- but over time that distraught had turned to burning anger, then to chilly indifference. He had become so used to the complete non-presence in his life that his father was that he simply ceased to be angry when people mentioned him or asked if they'd talked recently. Over that period of time, Macavity had evolved from a distinct individual to a shade, a dark smudge in his mind that made him crinkle his nose like he'd smelled something terrible. He stopped being able to remember specific things about him, then even the most general of things. When you don't know anything about a person beyond blurry memories of ten-year-old photos, it's easy to consider them something other than a distinct person.

Maybe that was why dinner had been so jarring. Keeping his distance from Macavity, going as far as to outright avoid him, made it easy to turn him into the antagonist in his own personal narrative. Poor little dancer boy, hailing from a broken home- how strong he must have been to go through life without a father and still make it every step of the way. But in his mind Macavity had never been more than that absent father archetype. He hadn't been the sort of cat who offered to pay for dinners at fancy restaurants for people he barely knew, or who flirted with queens at dinner and got embarrassed when they told people about it later, and he most certainly wasn't the sort of cat whose eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at his queenfriend.

The hot water started running out, leaving him with a lukewarm spray, and he quickly shut it off. The steam in the bathroom had mostly dissipated as he stepped out, but the last bits of it hung high on the ceiling near the vent, and the mirror was still completely fogged over. The heavy moisture in the air made his head spin a little as he dug through the small linen closet for a towel. Thoroughly drying his soaked-through fur, he wrapped it around his waist and stumbled out of the bathroom in exhaustion. His laundry could wait until tomorrow to be dealt with; with his head spinning from a mixture of hot air, his own thoughts, and a desperate need for sleep, all he could think about was his bed.

* * *

Even mental crises couldn't stop life, and the next few days passed in relative mindless peace. Mistoffelees spent his mornings at the studio and his evenings at rehearsal, keeping himself busy with errands during the in-between hours. It luckily afforded him very little time to think about Macavity, giving all of his physical and mental energy to his work.

Wednesday snuck up on him quietly, and he climbed the stairs from the subway station, walking quickly in the direction of the small cafe several blocks away from the secondary school where Munkustrap worked. These days it seemed like he was always late to meet the silver tom, no matter what the circumstances. He felt blessed to have a tomfriend who was so endlessly patient.

He was out of breath by the time he reached the cafe. The place was dimly lit and quiet, the only customers being a handful of older students on the same lunch hour as Munkustrap, and the tabby himself seated at the back of the room and mulling quietly over lesson plans. He couldn't help but smile when he saw him sitting there, with his half-full cup of forgotten coffee and papers spread across the entire table. He cleared his throat as he stood at the side of the table, clutching the strap of his shoulder bag.

Munkustrap's head snapped up from his work, and he greeted the young tuxedo with a positively brilliant smile.

"Sorry I'm late," he said apologetically as the silver tabby stood up to give him a kiss on the cheek. They hugged for a moment before Munkustrap sat back down and invited Mistoffelees to do the same. At this point, it was entirely routine.

"Busy day?" Munkustrap asked as he gathered his lesson plan papers into a more manageable pile and Mistoffelees hefted his bag off of his shoulder and hung it on the side of the chair. He let out an audible sigh.

"Aren't they all?" he said with a shake of the head. Munkustrap could only agree, nodding as he shoved his own evidence of the same off to the side.

The waitress, a modest brown queen with dark spots, walked over as soon as they had settled themselves and Mistoffelees had time to look over the menu. "What can I get for you gentlemen today?" she asked in a small voice, fiddling with the pen she was carrying. He smiled at her contentedly, setting the laminated paper aside.

"I'll have a coffee and a club sandwich," he said.

"Tuna for me. Oh, and a refill," Munkustrap said with an equal smile, holding up the porcelain mug. The modest waitress smiled in turn at them both and took the cup, tucking her notepad under her arm.

"I'll be back in just a moment," she said before walking off. The two toms turned their attention back to each other.

"How were your morning classes?" Mistoffelees asked, leaning forwards slightly on the table. Munkustrap gave a shrug.

"Full of disinterested, half-asleep teenagers, as always," he said with an indifferent facial expression. Mistoffelees couldn't help but smile sadly a little- he could remember being that student in his school years, listening to whatever the teacher was talking about with a far-off expression and only taking the most bare notes necessary to study from. It had never even crossed his mind that his teachers might be passionate about the subjects they taught, or about teaching in general, the way Munkustrap was.

Their food was delivered swiftly, and a few moments of comfortable silence passed between them. They both loved conversation, but at the same time they could both appreciate peace and quiet.

"Demeter called me last night," the silver tabby commented between bites of his sandwich, licking fish and mayonnaise from the tips of his fingers.

"Oh?" Mistoffelees replied, dabbing the corner of his mouth with a napkin. Munkustrap took a sip of his coffee as he carefully gauged his tomfriend's expression, then set it down with a slight smack of the lips when it seemed okay for him to continue.

"She wanted to apologize for dinner last week," he said, still watching Mistoffelees' face with a cautious sort of expression that he couldn't help but find adorable. He took a sip of his own coffee, diluted to a light tan colour with cream and sugar, considering his words carefully.

"There's nothing for her to apologize for," he said simply. "It was just an unfortunate coincidence- it wasn't anyone's fault, particularly not hers."

Munkustrap's shoulders seemed to relax in relief a little. "All the same, she feels terrible to have put you through that. We both do."

Mistoffelees reached across the table and clasped his hand, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "Really, it's perfectly alright. I don't blame either of you, and I'm not upset. It was just.. a little _jarring_."

'A little' was certainly an understatement, but the comment seemed to make Munkustrap happy, and that was all that mattered to him. The silver tabby gave him a gentle smile and went back to his sandwich and coffee, while the tuxedo turned and stared out the window at the street outside. It was not a particularly busy street, but people were still milling about in numbers large enough to distract him with people-watching. These days it didn't pay to let himself get caught up in his own head.

"She asked if she could come see your show when it starts," Munkustrap said idly, pulling him back out of his daze. "She seems really impressed with you being a dancer. She used to dance a little back when we were kids, so I think she might be a little envious, too."

"That would be nice," he replied with a smile, trying to hide his reservation. He had liked Demeter quite a bit, but although he thought of her first as Munkustrap's friend, it was hard to ignore the fact that she was also the queen dating Macavity. "I'll ask the show director about getting another ticket for opening night, if that works for her?"

"I'll ask her when I meet her for coffee tomorrow," Munkustrap said, sounding quite content with Mistoffelees' answer. "I'm glad you got along with her, even if dinner wasn't quite what you expected it to be."

"I think you made the process a little easier by introducing me to your brother first," he said with a well-meaning roll of the eyes. "After Tugger, anyone would have seemed like a treat."

Munkustrap laughed at that, and Mistoffelees couldn't help but smile.

* * *

"Yes, I understand.. just get it done as soon as you can. No, I _do_ understand, but this is important. I'll wire you the money in the morning, once the banks are open. This can't wait much longer."

Macavity sighed deeply as he hung up the phone, massaging his ears in exasperation. His job wasn't one he would wish on his worst enemy, but someone had to do it. His people seemed to be utterly incapable of organizing themselves. He was so distracted by the lingering chatter in his mind that he almost didn't notice thin arms wrap around his torso from behind.

"Hard day at the office?" Demeter asked teasingly, resting her forehead against the curve of his spine. He gently unfolded her arms from around his waist and took her wrists in hand, turning around to face her.

"No moreso than usual," he replied, kissing her knuckles. "Just a few.. after-hours dealings left to sort out."

"A hard day's work is never done." Her laugh was carefree and genuinely musical, as sappy as it made Macavity feel to think it. He kissed her on the forehead, brushing back her brilliant headfur striped in red and gold, black and white.

"How was your day?" he asked, turning away from her to shuffle together a pile of papers he'd left next to the phone.

"Good, good," she replied offhandedly, leaning slightly against the side table. "Boring, except for coffee with Munk this morning."

At that she turned her head slightly, lips moving as though there was something else she wanted to say but the words weren't quite there yet. As he shoved the papers into the drawer of the side table, he turned to her with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh? And I'm assuming that was business as usual?" he said, prompting. Seeing the invitation, Demeter looked back at him.

"He invited me to see Mistoffelees' performance on opening night," she said. "It's still a few weeks away, but.."

She trailed off, putting a hand to her collarbone and playing with the charm of her necklace. Even if he hadn't known her so well, the uneasiness would have been more than clear.

"Sounds like fun," he said, trying to sound reassuring without sounding like he was _trying_. Demeter just smiled at him, amused- though he was a notoriously difficult cat to read, she always seemed to see right through him.

"You wouldn't mind?" she asked. "Considering what happened at dinner.."

Macavity shook his head, working at loosening and removing his tie just to give his hands something to do. "Of course not," he said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Munkustrap is important to you, and there's no reason you should feel as though you and his tomfriend can't get along because of.. a little family drama." He gave the black and gold queen a reassuring smile as she reached up to undo the knot of his tie faster than he could, trying not to look as though his mind was elsewhere, although it was in fact preoccupied with what Mistoffelees had said to him in their less-than-pleasant private moment at dinner.

_Munkustrap means a lot to me and Demeter means a lot to him, and I don't want to drive a wedge between them because I can barely stand to be in the same room as you .. I'm willing to call a truce just for tonight- for his sake. But I want to make it very clear that just because I'm willing to be civil, it doesn't mean I feel any differently about you._

His own son could barely stand to be in the same room as him, a fact that would have made any decent father distraught. But he couldn't blame anyone but himself. He'd known very well what he was doing when he left, and Mistoffelees' anger was well-warranted. He'd resigned himself to that anger and hatred when he'd learned Mistoffelees was willing to miss a part of his own mother's funeral just to avoid seeing him, but seeing him at the restaurant- it had dredged up some feelings he had hoped to keep buried. Mistoffelees was no longer the little black and white tomkit he remembered leaving behind that day, but a full-grown tom that had never forgiven him for that. Seeing him in the flesh, hearing about his life in person rather than in tense phone conversations with his daughter or brief letters from his ex-wife, was more than a little- _jarring_.

He fiddled with the collar of his shirt as the silk strip of fabric was pulled from around his neck and draped over his shoulder. As he'd been telling himself for days, there was no use in dwelling on thoughts like that. Dwelling didn't change things, and it wasn't as though remorse would change what he'd done- if Mistoffelees would even believe that remorse was genuine.

He put his hands on Demeter's shoulders and simply looked at her for a moment before putting his arms around her, holding her close to his broad chest. She tensed a little; Macavity was affectionate, but his physical affections were not normally so sudden. When he released her, he held her at arm's length again.

"Let's go do something," he suggested. "Whatever you want- we could head down to the pier, or go out to dinner, or anything."

"Macavity! I have work in an hour, you know I can't," she said in disbelief.

"Call in sick. You haven't done so _once_ since we started dating. You're due."

She laughed, and again the sound was musical to him. "You're a horrible influence. Why this, all of a sudden?"

_I'm trying to desperately cling to the one good thing in my life that I don't deserve_ didn't exactly roll off the tongue, so he instead went with the more typical "Because I love you."

* * *

Some days it was all Mistoffelees could do to get home and collapse into bed, sometimes with not even enough energy to take his jacket off before he fell asleep. There had always been days like that, of course, but as opening night drew closer and closer, they became increasingly frequent. By the end of pre-show rehearsals, moving into their first show, he was spending virtually every moment either rehearsing, helping with the logistics of the show, or sleeping. Even eating was a rare act shoved in between dance numbers, consisting of soggy, bland sandwiches and weak coffee from the troupe's catering service. All in all, it left him physically and mentally drained, his nerves stretched as taut as a steel wire.

A few hours before opening night, he buzzed around his flat with a nervous fervour while Victoria sat quietly and patiently in the front room with her hands folded in her lap. As sister, flatmate, and fellow dancer, she was more than used to the pre-show routine of running about in a complete fluster.

"Have you seen my undershirt?" he called across the flat amidst the sound of slamming drawers. She rose dutifully and joined Mistoffelees in his bedroom, moving straight to the closet and pulling the missing undershirt out from under a box of documents on the top shelf. Her half-dressed brother, fur bristling in strange places from the distress, quickly pulled it on and turned to the bed where his pre-performance clothes were laid out. "Thanks. Is my bag in the front hall?"

"Of course," she said, stepping up next to him and smoothing down some of those patches of bristling fur, trying to make him look as sleek and smooth and prepared as she was sure he would look when he finally made it onto the stage that night. "Are you sure you don't want me to call a taxi for you?"

"No, no," he replied, pulling on his street clothes over the bottom-most layer of his costume; the rest would be assembled at the theatre, along with his makeup. "It's not worth the price; I'll be fine on the bus. It shouldn't be busy this time of day."

Mistoffelees pulled an oversized sweater that she couldn't help but think she had once seen Munkustrap wearing over his old t-shirt, still in a flurry as he moved from the bedroom to the front hall. Victoria followed as soon as she was sure he wasn't going to turn on his heel and come immediately back to grab something he had forgotten; when one of them was getting ready for a performance, the other always tried to stay back and out of the way, only stepping in when help was needed.

"Munk is going to pick you up here at six, alright?" he called, louder than necessary, as he pulled his coat from its hook in the front hall; the late autumn chill had set in, wet and not yet cold enough for snow but cold enough to cut through viciously through layers.

She shook her head at her brother's need to confirm everything ten times over. "I know, Mistoffelees," she said with all of her patience. "I'll be ready for him, as always."

"And Demeter is going to meet you at the theatre," he added as he fumbled with the zip of his coat, as though it were some last minute revelation rather than something he had told her multiple times over the past week. She merely smiled and nodded as he finally managed to get his coat done up, grabbed his bag, and gave her a little wave before running wordlessly and breathlessly out the door and down the stairs. When the sound of his footsteps had faded and she was again sure he wasn't going to turn around and come back for something he'd forgotten, she padded into the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea. After the whirlwind that was a pre-show Mistoffelees, she desperately needed one.

* * *

The most irritating part of the pre-show process was always sitting in one of the theatre's uncomfortable backstage chairs while Cassandra dusted his face with cheap stage makeup. He sat turned away from the vanity mirror while she used her thumb to smudge dark eyeshadow on his cheekbones, which combined with the same eyeshadow dusted liberally around his eyes gave him a hollow and skull-like appearance. He tried his hardest to not so much as twitch, even when she rubbed a bit too hard and he could feel his skin being pinched.

"Aaaand finished," she said triumphantly, giving his left cheek one last swipe of her thumb. He turned around in his chair and appraised the job she'd done before giving an approving nod. "Are you ready for your big number?"

He laughed nervously as he smoothed a stray bit of headfur back into place. "As I'm going to be," he admitted, tugging at the cuff of his purposely torn and ragged dress shirt.

Comforting hands settled on his shoulders, giving them a gentle rub in the sensitive area where they met his collarbone. "Mistoffelees, you're the best dancer in this troupe, and you've worked yourself to the bone these past few weeks. You're going to blow the crowd away." She reached around and adjusted his collar, giving him a smile over his shoulder in the mirror's reflection. "Besides, your tomfriend is out in the audience tonight, isn't he?"

"Don't remind me," Mistoffelees half-groaned, grimacing a little. Cassandra gave him a disapproving light smack to the shoulder.

"Don't act like that," she said. "It's meant to be good luck. In fact-"

Before Cassandra could continue her story, the stage coordinator popped his head into the room after a very brief knock. He was a paunchy, ageing tom that Mistoffelees didn't know well- his job mostly involved sets and lighting, and he never seemed to be around when it wasn't show time.

"Cassandra, we need you to do some quick touch-ups for the dancers in the first number," he said, jerking his head in the direction of the other part of the backstage area where the actual dressing rooms were located. "Mistoffelees, someone's here to talk to you before the show."

His ears perked as Cassandra scampered off to help the other makeup artists with the last minute touch-ups. "Who is it?"

The stage coordinator shrugged and walked off without another word as the tux rose from his chair, straightening himself out in the dusty vanity mirror. Backstage visits were rare; the last time he could remember someone visiting him was when he'd forgotten part of his dressings at home without realizing it, but he was sure that hadn't happened this time around.

He stepped around the corner to the back door of the old theatre, where the dancers and actors entered and where visitors were kept waiting until those they came to see invited them in further. He expected Munkustrap, Victoria, or perhaps even Demeter with words of well-wishing, but was not-at-all-pleasantly surprised.

"What are _you_ doing here?"

* * *

Demeter first spotted them across the crowded lobby because of Mistoffelees' sister; even with nothing to go on but Munkustrap's brief description, she was hard to miss, being pure white offset only by the black of her dress. Munkustrap was following close behind, but even still he blended in to the crowd compared to the snow white queen.

She greeted her ex-tomfriend with a brief hug and a chaste kiss to the cheek, then turned to the star's sister. "You must be Victoria," she greeted, having to yell slightly to be heard above the surrounding mob. There weren't that many people, the theatre being a relatively small one, but they were packed into the lobby so tight the sound was stifling. "It's so nice to meet you."

"Likewise," the small queen returned, shaking her hand delicately. From both appearance and demeanour, it was hard to tell that either her or Mistoffelees was at all related to Macavity; she could only assume that they both took after their mother, since she had never seen the queen herself. "Mistoffelees wanted me to tell you that he's glad you could make it tonight."

"I've been excited to see him dance, to tell you the truth," she said as they three moved off to the side in hopes of finding a quieter and less crammed spot to wait on the opening of the doors. "After all of the wonderful things Munkustrap's said about his performances.."

Victoria gave Munkustrap a sly look and the silver tom blushed, making Demeter think that perhaps she had said something she shouldn't have. "You know he hates when you do that," the white queen said, slapping him on the arm in a friendly sort of way. She didn't sound particularly bothered.

Munkustrap laughed. "I know," he replied, rubbing at his arm as though she had actually hurt him. "But he knows how much I brag to Demeter about him. Besides, he's worth bragging about."

The crowd began to move in a shuffling, orderly fashion as the doors opened at the far end of the room, and Munkustrap offered each of them an arm to escort them to their seats. Demeter looped her arm through his, allowing herself to be led into the pressing crowd.

As they dispersed across the theatre, the crowd's noise changed from a dull roar to a pervasive murmur. Their seats were front row centre- just behind an orchestra pit that looked as though it was hardly ever used. Munkustrap sat in the leftmost of the group of seats, guided Demeter to sit next to him, and handed Victoria off to the final rightmost seat.

Now that it was quiet enough for Demeter to be able to think, her mind drifted to the small white queen beside her and to her brother lingering somewhere backstage. It was clear that Victoria more or less knew who she was- a friend of her brother's tomfriend, at least, someone who she had heard about second- or third-hand- but she wondered if she knew their other connection. She couldn't imagine keeping that sort of knowledge from her own sister, but she knew nothing about the relationship between Victoria and Mistoffelees.

How was she supposed to approach these two young cats? She knew them casually now, as the tomfriend of one of her closest friends and that tomfriend's sister, but she could hardly ignore the fact that she was dating their father, regardless of what they thought of him. She felt obligated to be friendly, to go out of her way to be close to them, because of that simple fact. She couldn't tell if that was her own desires talking, or a lifetime of too many televised dramas and paperbacks with twist endings.

Munkustrap leaning over to her nearly made her jump, so absorbed was she in her own thoughts. "You're going to love this," he said softly, already glowing with excitement. Demeter got the feeling that he was always there in the front row, as often as work and life would allow him to be, smiling brilliantly as though he were witnessing something magical each and every time. That smile was already starting to show on his face.

He had never smiled at her like that, back when they had still been together, before they had realized they simply meshed better as friends than as lovers. She had never seen him light up that way around her, or in fact with any tom or queen he had been with prior to Mistoffelees, and she was glad to see that he had finally found someone who made him feel that way. She only wished their first meeting could have left a better first impression; she hadn't wanted to make either Mistoffelees or Macavity uncomfortable. She had only been hoping to keep herself in Munkustrap's life and him in hers even when those lives seemed to be so focused on new people. It reminded her of the early days of her and Macavity's relationship, when he had told her that he had two adult children, wondering if she could possibly find a foothold in their lives as a part of the life of their father. Now she wondered if either of those things were still at all possible.

* * *

"What are _you_ doing here?"

Again Macavity felt the strange sensation of being afraid of his small, harmless son, stiffening his posture as the tuxedo bristled violently at the sight of him. Gone was that sense of cool, discreet indifference, that anger he could only see in his eyes when they fell on him, replaced by a sharp and heated fury that affected every part of his self. He couldn't blame him for that; he was intruding on a space where he had already known he would not be welcome.

He raised his hands defensively, in a gesture of peace, and bowed his head as if in submission. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I know you don't want to see me, so I'll keep this brief. I just came to drop Demeter off and thought I could give you these while I was here."

He reached into his coat and pulled out two rectangular strips of paper, offering them to the younger cat. Mistoffelees eyed them suspiciously, perhaps rightly so, and twitched his nose at the offering. "What are those?"

"Tickets to the Concert Orchestra's performance next week," he replied, shuffling the tickets around between his fingers. "A study in classic orchestral pieces. I may not be able to apologize for ten years of silence, but I wanted to give you something to make up for the disaster that was that dinner."

"Thanks, but no thanks," his son said bitterly, crinkling his nose slightly at the offer.

"Just take them," Macavity implored. "You don't owe me a thing. If you don't take them, they'll just go to waste- I already have mine." He quickly added, "For a different night, of course."

Mistoffelees eyed the tickets warily, clearly still having a hard time believing that his offer was coming without strings attached. And who could blame him? There were strings attached to everything Macavity did- even being born as his child came with strings attached.

"If you don't want to use them yourself, give them to someone you think would enjoy them," he said finally, looking around momentarily for somewhere to place them and eventually settling on a chest-high ledge to his right. He wanted to say something else, another apology perhaps, but the look on Mistoffelees' face made it obvious that he had long outstayed his welcome.

He left without another word, not even sparing another glance back over his shoulder as he beelined straight for his car parked on the street close to the front of the theatre. Whether Mistoffelees would accept the small and admittedly insignificant token was out of his hands- just as the cat himself had been for the last ten years.

* * *

Mistoffelees couldn't bring himself to move until after Macavity's footsteps disappeared into the distance, simply standing there and bristling. Once the sound had vanished, he tried to smooth out his fur, his tail lashing violently behind him.

The tickets sat on the varnished ledge, as if taunting him. If he'd been alone, he would have screamed; there was so much _anger _in him that he just wanted to let out, but he couldn't, not while there was so much else for him to be concerned with. There was a great temptation to just leave the slips of paper there, ready to be taken by whoever passed by next, or thrown out at the night's end by the janitor, but an even more unfortunate temptation drew him to them. He picked them up and examined them closely; they were excellent seats, had probably cost more than he spent on entertainment in the course of a year. It made him want to scream even louder; what right did Macavity have to throw his wealth at him? It was bad enough just _knowing_ that he was so well-off without having it forced in his face.

He crumpled them slightly in his fist, though not enough to wreck them completely. As he forced the anger to filter out of him, trying to regain his pre-show composure, he paced the floor of the backstage area and tried to work the tenseness back out of his muscles. When he found the way back to his unofficial dressing room, that small plywood room shoved quietly off to the side, he shoved the crumpled tickets into the depths of his bag to be forgotten until he could afford to let his mind wander.

He cursed Macavity internally again, and a few unkind words even managed to slip quietly past his lips. His "father" couldn't have picked a worse time to poke his head into his life- his nerves were already frayed from the idea of the upcoming performance and the added stress from Macavity's appearance made him want to, in equal parts, scream and cry.

The dusty, peeling vanity mirror tempted him back and he stared at himself in the reflective surface, taking in his black-smudged cheeks and dark-rimmed eyes that served to make him look like the living dead. He looked completely hollow- and cliche as it sounded, he felt precisely the same. The anger that had boiled to the surface of his skin had retreated once more, leaving a cold and sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

The first dance was starting; he could hear the opening strings of music and feel the hush of the crowd as the lights fell. Backstage became just as quiet, though the air hummed with the collective nervousness of all of the dancers whose own parts were upcoming. His own first number was several away- there was a connecting string of narrative in the dances, not quite a coherent plot but a tying element throughout, and there was establishment necessary before he could make his appearance.

Cassandra peered at him through the doorway. Although he hadn't heard her- like most stagehands and dancers, she knew how to move silently in the midst of a performance- he had known she was going to check up on him.

"Is everything okay?" she mouthed, accompanied by a hiss of a whisper that he could hardly hear. He put on his best fake smile and gave her a brisk nod, sending her skittering off silently to attend to whatever else she had been tasked with.

The music continued to float daintily across the backstage area as he adjusted his jacket and smoothed down a few more patches of fur that had bristled themselves out of place. He held his back straight and his muscles loose, trying to look every part the put-together dancer.

The tickets sat in the bottom of his bag, not forgotten but desperately attempted to be.


End file.
